


Waiting Somewhere

by flickerthenflare



Series: All Your Life You'll Dream of This [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Royalty, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 23:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2525009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerthenflare/pseuds/flickerthenflare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A prince in disguise – who also happens to be the heir to the throne and Kurt’s gay teenage heartthrob – turns Kurt’s day at Hummel Tires and Lube around in what Kurt assumes is a freak coincidence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting Somewhere

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Mirrors some of the bullying/homophobia seen in the second season of Glee.

Some of the other Hummel Tires and Lube employees take smoke breaks outside at a reasonable distance away from the highly flammable garage. Kurt takes pop culture breaks. He doesn’t mind braving the cold for 10 moments of peace in which to immerse himself in the news of the royal family.

His attention wanders from tires more often than usual today. Something more exciting must be out there. His newsfeed, however, disagrees. It's a slow news day where the royal family is concerned, which will make it easier to pocket when his 10 minutes is up, but leaves him dissatisfied and itching for something more.

He resorts to e-mail for his last few minutes of entertainment. Rachel e-mails news articles or paparazzi pictures days after he first sees them, but he appreciates the thought. Kurt becomes Rachel’s favorite cause that’s not her future rise to stardom. She worries about his silences and thin smiles without teeth. The e-mails are meant to cheer him. All her emails are littered with exclamation points and smiley faces. She even attempts conversations on clothes for his sake.

_He’s such a cutie in this cardigan/polo combo. :D His style has gotten more adorable lately, have you noticed?!? He dresses like candy wrapping. Yum!!!!_

Kurt has noticed. His fashion blog has catalogued the shift. Prince Blaine’s new style is bright and cheerful and young. The prince may spend his time behind the gates of the palace, but the colors shine through the paparazzi photos shot from 100 yards away just as strongly as Blaine’s affection for his giant female captain of the guards he has taken to visiting frequently. Those pictures delight Kurt, as do the pictures of Prince Wes teaching Prince Blaine how to drive in loops around the palace grounds.

With no other news, Kurt pockets his phone. His time is almost up anyway.  

Few people wander the streets of Lima in winter weather, but Kurt’s eyes are drawn to a bundled figure hurrying across the parking lot. When he sees the bundle and thinks of the prince, he assumes his imagination is working against him and he’s getting worked up over some high school boy in a formless coat and sunglasses that command more attention than they divert.Kurt’s imagination is occasionally too inventive, and the prince is always on his mind. Kurt is drawing connections that aren’t there.

He’d tell himself to let it go, but he knows those eyebrows peeking over the sunglasses.

“Your fashion consultant would know better than to advise that ensemble,” he calls partially to prove himself right about the stranger’s identity and partly because Blaine should know his disguise doesn’t work if secrecy is important to him.

He expects to be ignored. He expects to be wrong.

The stranger removes the sunglasses, his other hand clutching the coat tight around him, and looks up with wide eyes Kurt would know anywhere.

Kurt is starstruck. He knew it; he knew he recognized the prince, but the confirmation takes his breath away. Everything about the prince is so familiar even though he’s never seen Blaine face-to-face before. It’s like he already knows him.

“Sorry for startling you.” His voice only shakes a little. Reality catches up now that he can see Blaine without any disguise. In his fantasies he meets Blaine at a ball. Something befitting a fairytale. Instead, they're in the parking lot of a tire shop, and he's literally next to a dumpster.

The prince recovers enough to offer his hand. “I’m Blaine.”

“I know.” Kurt belatedly realizes the prince introduced himself to learn his own name and he quickly squeaks out, “Kurt!”

“I’m not convincing, then?” The prince’s voice is warm and husky, and he only sounds mildly concerned, but he throws a nervous glance over his shoulder to the thankfully abandoned parking lot.

Kurt follows his gaze. They could easily generate a crowd given how many shops fit into the area surround Hummel Tires and Lube. The longer Kurt stares at Blaine, the plainer it becomes that he’s looking at royalty. Someone else will realize the same.

Kurt’s spur of the moment plan spills out of him.

“This is going to seem like a crazy plan, but the shop is my family’s and we live close by. I have clothes you could borrow that’ll hide who you are better than that. I promise the coveralls are just for work; I’m good with clothes.” He bites his lip. There’s something more important than clothes he needs to convey.

“I promise I’m safe. This isn’t a trick. I’m trying to help.” He can’t think of the right words to indicate good intentions, because anyone could say the same and not be worthy of the prince’s trust.

Blaine grins so broadly at the offer Kurt feels like he’s the one being placated. “I’m not worried.” And he winks.

Kurt doesn’t know what to do with a boy – the nation’s most attractive boy – winking at him. Gape like a fish, apparently. “You’re okay with that? Just like that?”

“We should go soon. I’m short on time. I didn’t plan getting discovered into my day.”

“Okay, right. Okay. Let’s go. The black Navigator across the lot is mine.” Kurt tosses the keys for Blaine to catch, which Blaine does even if he looks caught off guard. “We’ll get you a better disguise. Just… hold on and I’ll be right back!”

Kurt rushes back for his bag and leaves the shop again without so much as a goodbye to his coworkers. He’ll make it up to his dad later, and there’s nothing believable that he can explain to anyone else right now.

His friends are never going to believe him. He should ask for a picture. Is it weird to ask for a picture? He has daydreamed about meeting his idol and his daydreams never go like this. Goodbye, thoughts of anything else from now on, he’s just going to relive seeing Blaine turn to look at him in an abandoned parking lot on an endless loop.

He imagines Rachel’s squeal of excitement, Mercedes’ bemused disbelief, Tina’s jealousy. He has story fodder for half a year’s worth of sleepovers now. It might take half a year to convince them it didn’t happen in his mind.

He finds Blaine waiting in the Navigator’s passenger seat. He’s not a mirage after all. Kurt has a prince – the heir presumptive – snooping in the glove compartment of his car.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” Blaine doesn’t sound the least bit upset at having been ordered to sit and wait but like he’s genuinely happy at Kurt’s return – far happier than expected for someone whose secret identity was just found out. For one of the few times in his life, Kurt is grateful he seems so nonthreatening.

“The name matches.” Blaine holds up Kurt’s insurance card retrieved from Kurt’s glove box. “Hummel, Hummel Tires and Lube. You’re real.”

Kurt debates pinching himself to be sure. “So does the address, in case you need to tell anyone where you’re going.”

“No, thank you, I didn’t slip away only to report myself missing. I believe you.” He buckles the seatbelt and wait primly for Kurt to drive.

“Tell me you don’t do this often.” Kurt glances at Blaine sideways as he pulls onto the familiar road between the shop and home.

Blaine laughs. “It’s not that bad!”

It’s pretty bad. Maybe Kurt would know him anywhere, but he can’t be the only one to see through Blaine’s disguise. Kurt belatedly realizes that a boy whose safety is a matter of national security should know better than to be so oddly trusting as to agree to get in a stranger’s car and go with him to his home. It seems all the “he’s so young remarks” weren’t just spin.

“You shouldn’t assume the best from everyone.”

Blaine looks perplexed at the thought, head tilted and smile fading in stutters. Like someone wishing him harm never crossed his mind and he can’t quite comprehend.

“Be careful,” Kurt insists. “You mean a lot to people.” Kurt is so invested in seeing the boy who promised it gets better in a YouTube video become king.

The bright smile is only gone for a moment and then back brighter than ever as Blaine coyly asks, “Are you saying I shouldn't have come home with you?”

Kurt chokes on air. “Oh, no, you should definitely do that. Just… oh my god, Blaine.” He can’t even feel mortified that he just addressed the future king by his first name, no title at all, because he’s too busy being hypothetically mortified on Blaine’s behalf. “Be careful,” he repeats. “It’s such a stupid thing to hurt your reputation for, but you know it will.”

“I’ll be careful.”

Kurt steals another glance at the prince playing with the car radio. Blaine is smaller than he pictured. Any picture of Blaine next to his brother or his father will suggest that Blaine isn’t tall, but sometimes Kurt miscalculates his own size and forgets that he’s grown considerable in the last year. _Perfection in miniature form_ , Tina had called him once. Blaine, who occupies such a prominent portion of Kurt’s thoughts, fits cute and compact right next to him. He's so small for such a big presence.

Kurt tries to wipe everything else Tina has said about Blaine – from his pouty lips meant to be kissed to his squeezable ass – from his mind. Sitting next to the prince is overwhelming enough. Kurt can see every breath he takes, can smell the fragrance sweeter than most men would wear. Could count his gloriously thick eyelashes if he had time and it wasn't so creepy.  

“You’re young for a mechanic,” Blaine observes.

Kurt wipes at the grease he’s certain must be on his face. “I have to support my expansive closet somehow. You’ll see.” After a beat he tacks on, “Your highness.” He’s going to overuse the title to overcompensate for Tina’s inappropriate comments in his mind. Fight fire with propriety.

“See, this is how I know you’re safe; you’re more nervous about me being here than I am.”

Every word sounds like he’s flirting. Kurt is tempted to turn on air conditioning in the middle of winter to counteract the heat in his cheeks.

Blaine bops along with the beat as he changes radio stations and settles on Top 40. It’s unfairly adorable when Kurt is supposed to concentrate on transporting the prince safely.

“So. You probably know all about me. I want to know about you.” On a less charming boy it would sound conceited. Kurt loves the way Blaine talks. The slow, steady way he gives each word weigh. The self-confidence and the sweetness.

Where to begin – his hobbies? His royal watching he inherited from his mother and intensified as a source of comfort to a point that he doesn’t want to admit. He could let Blaine know what he’s good at – singing, finding discounts on designer clothes, giving imaginary makeovers to news commentators. Or the basics – his 17 years, his father and stepmother and stepbrother, his role as a student and a part time tire shop employee. He could start with a secret to force closeness between strangers. The secret on his mind most days isn’t his to tell.

“What’s school like for you?” Blaine prompts.

It hasn’t actually gotten better in any tangible way yet – school is still hell, he’s still alone, he has the added stressor of Karofsky getting even more brutish ever since Kurt confronted him.No one who cares can do anything and anyone who can do anything doesn’t care. Avoiding Karofsky is built into his day, as are his complex logistics to never be alone with him again. He’ll go through whole days silently furious that this is allowed to be his life. He goes through whole days where he wishes he were invisible and dresses extra loud as a reminder that Karofsky and his ilk haven’t won.

He takes too long to answer a simple question about school. Concern radiates off Blaine.

“You can tell me to mind my own business, but I care, Kurt.”

Kurt likes how his name sounds on Blaine’s tongue. Kurt has listened to Blaine’s coming out video enough to make the voice of a prince who rarely makes public appearances intimately familiar. Either it’s soothing by nature or Kurt made it so by turning to it on the worst of his bad days.

“Tell me about it?”

Kurt is glad he doesn’t have to maintain eye contact. He keeps his eyes locked on the familiar road. “I confronted this guy who’s made it his mission to never let me have a day of peace. I though about what I’d want if…. If someone were to step in and solve my problem, what I’d want them to do. Then I did it myself.”

His voice is distant as he tells a story he hasn’t told anyone. It’s startling to hear himself. It’s all been in his head for months.

“He threatened to kill me. And he… It’s not how I imagined my first kiss would go. I don’t feel safe around him.”

Blaine’s hand rests next to him. They don’t touch but’s comforting in its nearness.

“You don’t deserve that.”

Kurt knows – _he knows_ – but Blaine’s words are a relief to hear aloud. Kurt is alone in so many opinions in his small town of small minds, but not this one. He can feel Blaine’s big, sympathetic eyes on him.

“We’ll figure something out. You shouldn't feel like you have to take him on on your own. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Kurt says thanks quietly. 

At the Hummel-Hudson home, Blaine bounds out of the car and follows Kurt inside without hesitation. Kurt has all these silly fantasies of himself in the halls and courtyards of the sprawling palace halls he's seen in pictures, but he’s never thought about Blaine in his home. His fantasy invites himself in. Blaine skims his fingers along the banister up to Kurt's room and touches his bookshelf in interest. He stands at Kurt’s vanity where Kurt despairs and hopes and fusses over his appearance every day. Kurt is immensely grateful his decorating schemes never involve hanging posters so that Blaine isn’t greeted by laminated versions of himself smiling back.

“Ready to change how the world sees you?” Kurt asks.

“Can you make me look older? I don’t want to look like a kid playing hooky. I don’t want to look like a kid at all.”Blaine sinks into Kurt's plush bed overrun with pillows and waits expectantly. Kurt doesn’t know how he’ll _sleep_ there now.

Kurt sets right to work to distract himself from _Blaine on his bed_ , babbling as he searches. "What you have going right now with the too-big coat and the season-inappropriate sunglasses is an absence of style. What we need to give you is a style not your own.”

He throws open the closet doors. He’s more at ease now that he’s in his element.Blaine seems too gorgeous to mess with, but it’s practically his civic duty to protect the prince with his superior sense of style.Kurt picks out a series of options for Blaine and lays them out next to Blaine on his bed.

“Your hair and your eyebrows are your most recognizable features. Oversized glasses are a cliché but they're the best way to obscure your distinctive eyebrows – your current sunglasses just point right to them. Regular glasses will have to do while it’s still winter. Pairing the glasses with a hat will be too much, so I think your best bet is to restyle your hair. What does your hair look like if you leave it natural?”

“This is natural,” Blaine replies automatically.

“Oh, honey, don't give a style interview with that response; they’ll eat you alive.”

“It's that obvious?” The easy confidence vanishes, like Blaine shrinks before his eyes. His hand hovers over his coif.

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting you put effort into looking your best.” Kurt drops his voice to a conspiring whisper to add, “My hair doesn't naturally stick 3 inches up in the air, you know.”

That earns him a smile.

“Go like this to your hair.” Kurt mimics tugging at his own hair – he’s not about to invite himself to touch the stranger on his bed. Instead he mists Blaine with new product.

“No way,” Blaine protests with a smile. “You’re playing with me. Next you’ll say _put on this nice clown outfit_ and _here are your giant shoes_.”

“You’re stuck with your own excellent footwear, I’m afraid, otherwise the clown comparison will be apt.”

Blaine tilts his head to take in Kurt’s feet.

“For future reference, if you're not comfortable going out without product, style it in a different way. Just don’t go too crazy. If you’re going to get caught you’ll want to be in a look you won’t be embarrassed by.”

“I can’t get caught.” The thought is enough to make Blaine crunch his hands through his hair as Kurt directed, musing his perfect coif, and then inspect the style options Kurt laid out for him.

“What could possibly be worth it? I stayed out past curfew once for a Chitty Chitty Bang Bang sing-along and was wracked with guilt.”

“I promised I’d help.” Blaine looks up earnestly with one of Kurt’s disguises in hand. Kurt can’t hold his gaze because Blaine starts unfastening his clothes and Kurt has to look away now if he has any hope of doing the right thing and looking away eventually. He blushes like crazy even with his back turned. And kicks himself just a little bit for turning without being asked to.

“I’m so sick of waiting,” Blaine continues, slightly muffled. “I want to be able to make a difference right now. I have this amazing platform I'm not allowed to use. Until then, I have to do something. It’s stupid, I know.”

“I don’t think you think that.”

“No, but I can feel your judgment from here.”

“Concern,” Kurt insists to the wall.

“I feel like I’m not doing enough. The sooner I find love, the sooner I can change the conversation on marriage equality. We would make the cutest power couple, I just know it. Like a gay Victoria and David Beckham in politics.”

Kurt would insist on being Victoria. He keeps that thought and his eyes to himself.

“An unsupervised moment presented itself to speed up the process and I took it. I wouldn’t regret it if I found him. I feel like I’ve been waiting for forever behind the palace gate and he hasn’t shown up.”

Kurt holds back a laugh at a 16-year-old thinking he’s waited long because he’s been out for a few months. Thankfully Blaine can’t see the twinge of amusement on his lips.

“Give him time. Anyone sensible would rush to meet you. If we’re not careful with your disguise, a lot of insensible ones too.”

Blaine grabs Kurt by the shoulders and turns him. “Well, what do you think?”

He looks edgier and older than his usual by far. Blaine’s hair is artfully styled to look like he cares less. The overall look is a little like budding rock star on a budget, which will make a nice cover for being too gorgeous to pass as a regular person. The eager look awaiting approval is pure Blaine, however.

“Unbutton your collar. No one’s going to know who you are by your collarbone,” Kurt directs. Kurt holds his hand back from fussing with Blaine’s buttons for him. Blaine should be able to rearrange his image for himself.

Blaine holds himself differently in his borrowed clothes.

"Look at you all grown up."

"You have no room to tease about looking young if you're the same age your license says you are."

Kurt rolls his eyes. He bets Blaine looked at his weight too. 

Blaine admires his reflection. “I think this just might work.”

He tries a smolder next.

Kurt is interrupted from staring at Blaine by Carole calling from downstairs, "Kurt, there's a man and his bodyguards here to see you?"

Kurt startles. Blaine’s eyes widen as well.

Prince Wes and two strangers dressed in uniforms step into the room. Kurt gawks at the royalty at his door. Like Blaine, Kurt has seen Wes’ face so many times that it's familiar and disconcerting in it's familiarity. Surreal but nice.

“Oh, good, you’re alive,” the white bottle-blond with giant lips breathes as he rushes to Blaine’s side.

Prince Wes is pissed. "You ditched me at a garage."

"Sorry." Blaine has the grace to look sorry too.

"You ditched your _security detail_ at a garage."

"Sorry for that one too?"

"Is this the guy? Well, at least he's pretty for a boy,” the slender woman with a medium brown skin and a dangerous glint in her eyes comments while checking behind Kurt’s furniture.

“Wes, Santana, Sam, this is Kurt.” Blaine says Kurt’s name with a fondness like he’s known Kurt forever.

“Cool. Your facebook profile does not do you justice,” Sam says.

“Is your entire secret service gay?” Kurt asks faintly.

“Not all of them. These two are just extremely supportive,” Blaine explains.

Something dark twinges in Santana’s expression and for a moment Kurt thinks she might contradict Blaine. Instead she shoves more forcefully at Kurt’s furniture and continues her search. "Your home is lovely. And possibly full of booby traps and assassins.”

"Santana," Wes warns.

"I said the kind thing first."

“Despite the circumstance, I’m pleased we found you,” Wes says, but he directs his comment toward Kurt, not Blaine.

“You were looking for me?” Kurt considers for a moment. “Is this like a gay make-a-wish?”

"I'm really good at the Internet," Wes says smugly. “I did a simple search of places we might stop – like mechanic shops – and people who might appreciate a visit – like gay sons of mechanics mentioned in unpleasant Yelp reviews that I have since flagged as against the terms of use – and found you.”

“You found me on Yelp? You searched your whole country for gay teens in need of wishes granted on _Yelp_?”

“Blaine isn’t the only one who can embrace modern technology,” Wes says.

Kurt looks to Blaine for confirmation.

“It’s not a great plan, but we couldn’t come up with a great plan and we figured this one might give us ideas for a better one,” Blaine explains. “And it actually worked!”

“A _better_ plan would involve not gallivanting across town and sending your security team into a panic, which is the kind of plan I thought I agreed to,” Wes scolds. “We can’t stay any longer. It’s already been a suspiciously prolonged driving lesson. You don’t want your family to start asking questions.”

Kurt startles at Blaine taking both Kurt’s hands in his in response. “I’ll be back,” Blaine promises. "Let me come back? You've done me a favor. You have to let me repay you."

Kurt sees right through Blaine’s offer, but he nods vigorously. “I’d like that.”

***

“I’d like someone I’m not going to scold to drive the car, please,” Wes announces mildly once outside of hearing distance from the house.

“Me!” Sam lunges for the driver’s door. “I volunteer to not be scolded.”

Santana rolls her eyes at him and slinks into the passenger seat.

Blaine is a confusing mess of emotions as they pull away from Kurt’s home and he waits for Wes to speak. His pent up desire to do something has been let loose and it’s satisfying and not enough and he clearly doesn’t know what he’s doing but he has to try. He’s impatient for change to happen, like, yesterday. Finding his happily ever after means his grandfather will have to make good on his promise for marriage equality throughout the kingdom. Finding someone like Kurt means making good on his promise to make things better for LGBT teenagers as soon as possible.

"Are the two years between us fundamental to understanding consequences?" Wes sounds more weary than enraged. Blaine suspects everyone treats him more like a child ever since Sue Sylvester began her campaign focused on reminding everyone of his young age so as to excuse the impetuousness of youth.

“It just happened.” Kurt was just too endearing in his offer to take Blaine away. Blaine couldn’t have said anything but yes. Kurt tossed him a key and of course he went along.

“What happens if you get into trouble on my watch, Blaine? I’ll look like Scar from _The Lion King_. I can’t have that kind of image. If you’re so set on letting me have a go at being king, eat a lot of hamburgers and wait 40 years.”

“I can do that,” Blaine says amiably. “Thank you,” he tacks on. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. I didn’t think about you at all.”

Wes gives Blaine a bemused look that communicates just how aware he is of that fact. “Give me a moment to freak out and then we’ll be okay. You’re safe. My heart will recover. Don’t do it again.”

“No more incidents. I promise. Just one more visit to Kurt to deal with this bully, and then we’ll see if there’s anyone else we can help discretely.”

“ _Discretely_ , Blaine. Remember that.” Wes drops his head back with his eyes to the roof and fingers massaging at his temples.

While he waits for Wes to work past the anxiety Blaine put him through, Blaine picks up his phone. He pulls up the newly entered contact information for Kurt. _Did I get this right?_

_Hi! I hope so. – Kurt._

Blaine smiles in satisfaction.

***

Kurt sinks to the bed Blaine lounged on just moments ago. Blaine breezed in and out of Kurt’s life quickly and once again Kurt is tempted to pinch himself.

He usually processes alone, but Carole is at his door expecting answers. She looks drowsy, shaken from her swing shift routine by the royal entourage at the door.

“Hi Carole. How do you feel about keeping secrets?” Kurt aims for upbeat and innocent.

Carole doesn’t look impressed – her idea of bonding with her stepson doesn’t involve keeping his secrets from his father, it turns out – but she still finds it in her heart to tease, “Who’s the guy?”

“Oh, good, my disguise – wait, how’s your pop culture knowledge? Who’s on the cover of _Entertainment Magazine_ this month?”

Carole shakes her head and laughs. “So this is my family now. I know what a teenage boy trying to get away with something looks like, Kurt.”

“Go easy on me?”

She yawns into her elbow before commenting, “Easy was letting you pretend to sneak past me with the first boy. Does your dad have a rule about boys in your room? What about royal guards? Which one of us is dreaming here?”

“Neither, I hope.”

He’ll take another moment to bask. And then it’s time to think of damage control for skipping out on work and inviting royalty home without permission.

***

The nerves don’t stop Kurt’s smile from spreading at Blaine’s arrival, flanked by his guards in plainclothes and dressed in clothes borrowed from Kurt.

"I was beginning to think I made it all up in my mind and my fantasies are weirder than I thought." Seeing Blaine again is a shock after days of believing his rich fantasy life is finally playing tricks on him. This weird little chapter in his life actually happened, but it’s about to come to an end.

Blaine laughs. "I know the feeling." 

Kurt pushes down the impulse to hug him. Blaine pulls him close instead.

Kurt lingers longer than is polite. 

"Don't be nervous." Blaine says with a knock against Kurt’s shoulder. "We've got this." 

Relief flashes in Kurt’s strained expression. 

“How’s my disguise?” Blaine asks.

“You look great.”

Blaine preens at the compliment he fished for. "I tried to get Wes on board with his own disguise, but instead he’s waiting in the car with a book he won’t read.”

"Or these two are too conspicuous together and all the princes feed off each other's bad ideas," Santana corrects.

Sam looks disarmingly sweet and nondescript in plain clothes and Santana takes all focus away from Blaine in her slinky dress. Crowds part for Santana and the rest of the follow.

“What am I looking for?” Santana asks.

“Like an ogre in a letterman jacket whose expression alternates between befuddled and enraged. That might not be specific enough.”

Santana flashes him asmirk that Kurt suspects means she might like him.

They wind through the halls and stairs in search of Karofsky with Kurt’s heart in his throat. Blaine takes in Kurt’s usual surroundings – GO FIGHT WIN posters for the football team, defaced sign up sheets for extracurricular activities on the bulletin boards, the sticky residue of slushies on the tiled floor – in open interest. Santana and Sam lead with their focus on the crowd.

Sam and Santana’s eyes both follow a blonde cheerleader who crosses their path.Kurt wonders if his gaydar isn’t broken after all, although working under Blaine seems like a dream situation to be out in to Kurt. Something is going on with Santana and he’s just nosy enough to want to know what.

“Is he over there?” Blaine peers in the direction that has distracted both guards.

Santana and Sam snap back to attention with identical guilty expressions. Santana recovers first. “So this is what poor smells like. No wonder everyone’s so mean.”

“What’s your excuse?” Sam asks good-naturedly.

“One part occupational hazard, one part being honest with people when they suck.”

Kurt catches sight of another letterman jacket and Santana’s no longer the closeted peer that concerns him. “That’s him.”

Santana gives Karofsky an appraising glance. “Like that guy. That guy I will tell to his face that he sucks.”

“We’re not going to _become_ bullies,” Blaine corrects. He rests a reassuring hand on Kurt’s arm and Kurt leans into the touch. “We’re going to have a calm, mature conversation about making better choices when dealing with frustrations.”

Kurt steels his courage and leans further into Blaine as the approach.

Blaine’s tone is confident and friendly when he calls out, “I’d like to talk to you for a moment.”

Karofsky scowls at the boy he doesn’t know and doesn’t seem to recognize. “You don’t even go here. I would have thrown you in a dumpster for sure.”

"The way you're behaving towards Kurt is unkind." Like being unkind is the worst offense Blaine can imagine.

Karofsky ignores Blaine completely. “Call off your fruit squad, Hummel.”

"Having your own struggles as you come to terms with your sexuality doesn't mean you're not behaving terribly."

"If you tell anyone else…" All of Karofsky’s attention is on Kurt.

Blaine steps back into Karofsky’s line if sight. 

"See, that's what I mean. Threatening people doesn't make them inclined to help you. I think you do need it. You don't have to come out, but you need to stop making Kurt miserable because he has." Blaine’s expression stays pleasantly open but firm.

Karofsky points a meaty finger in Blaine’s face. "Stop saying I’m gay.”

"There's help if you want –"

Karofsky shoves and Blaine is so tiny in comparison – Karofsky moves him like it’s nothing. Blaine’s glasses go flying. They weren't the best disguise, but the illusion of being someone else is now completely gone.

Blaine raises his arms in either placation or surrender, Kurt isn’t sure which, but doesn’t shove Karfosky back. He doesn’t need to.

"What is _wrong_ with you, don't you know who he is?" Kurt didn’t know he was strong enough to move Karofsky, who looks startled as well. Santana and Sam step in before he can close the distance Kurt created.

"Not cool!" Sam scolds.

Santana, without any concern for how massive Karofsky is in comparison, gets right up in his face and glowers with all her strength. "I _highly_ recommend against any more violent acts or threats that could substantiate a case against you. The same goes for anyone who associates with your future king. You _breathe_ wrong and we’ll call it conspiracy against the crown.”

Santana’s warning has the desired effect of scaring Karofsky away. 

Kurt moves to Blaine’s side. “Are you okay?”

Blaine's brow furrows, his eyes focused over Kurt’s shoulder. “It seems I’ve broken my promise not to cause another scene.”

Kurt turns to take in the crowd that has gathered around them. There are students and teachers alike. Some look stunned, some look disappointed that a fight didn’t break out, and worst of all, some have their cell phones out.

Blaine asks with more enthusiasm than would be natural, “Hey, Kurt, how do you feel about playing hooky the rest of the day? I think it might be easiest if you come with us.”


End file.
